


Come Hell or Heaven

by Kay_Drew



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_Drew/pseuds/Kay_Drew
Summary: Something has happened. Something dreadful. Aziraphale can't recall a thing. What will that do for Aziraphale and Crowley's relationshi[? Can they weather this storm?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Come Hell or Heaven

“Where am I?”

“Angel, where are you? That’s a good one. Very funny,” Crowley replied, chuckling and shaking his head. The muscles in his cheeks tweaked the corners of his lips into a smile instead of his usual smirk.

“I’m not joking! Where am I?” Aziraphale demanded, staring at the demon sitting next to his bedside. “And who might you be?”

The smile fell and with it his sunglasses slipped down his nose. “Aziraphale, come off it. You’re scaring me,” whispered Crowley.

Scaring a demon, especially the likes of Crowley, was not an easy feat. In fact, scaring was part of their job descriptions. Little spooks, big spooks, middle spooks, and everything in-between; although demons never called them spooks. They had their own name for it. Some called them jobs. Others called them daily duties. A few called it meetings on a Monday morning or a Friday before four in the afternoon.

“I haven’t a foggiest idea where I am. How do you know my name?”

Panic crept into his voice as well as his eyes. Dark brows charged up to his pale fizzy hairline. The man at his bedside seemed to know him quite well. Why else would he be there?

“We’ve known each other for ages. I’m Crowley! I’m a demon. I’m a fallen angel. You’re an angel.”

“Well, thank you. I don’t know you, but you’re an angel too. You’re just sitting here keeping me company and not stealing anything.”

“No,” Crowley groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was bad. It was very bad. And he felt like he was on the brink of having a moment. “You’re an actual angel. You were given a body by the Higher Ups.”

“Angels are real? That explains why I wasn’t bunged up more than I was last night. A car sped through a red light and into my path. Why should I tell you? I don’t remember you. I still don’t know why you’re sitting there. You say you’re Crowley, but I don’t know any Crowley’s. That must mean you’re breaking and entering. I should phone the constable.”

“Your library’s front door was unlocked. That isn’t normal for you so I pushed it open with a finger,” he explained, raising his first finger and waving it about to add emphasis. “You were asleep so I decided to wait.”

Aziraphale pushed his quilt to the foot of the bed and swung his legs over the edge. Planting his feet on the wooden floor, he stared at an unfamiliar pair of slippers. “Angels need sleep?” he mused.

“Not really, but we enjoy the rest. You more than I. You looked utterly angelic, by the way.”

“I see.”

Crowley made a noise of recognition. Drumming his fingers on the armrest, the demon found himself getting anxious. Doing nothing was not a comfortable status. Moving around was his speed. “I’m going to go make tea,” Crowley announced. Launching himself from the chair, he sauntered to the kitchen.

“What a peculiar man,” Aziraphale mumbled, stripping from his tartan nightgown and donning one of the seven tan suits hanging in the armoire, but struggled with tying his bowtie. Giving up, he carried it from room to room until he found Crowley in the kitchen.   
  


“The tea smells lovely.”

“I set out scones. I know how much you like them.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind. Um…”

Crowley turned away from the stove and hurried to his side. “Here, let me,” he whispered, taking the bow tie from Aziraphale and draping it over his neck. With nimble fingers, he tied it snug. “Good as new.”

“Thank you. You’re too kind,” he remarked, sitting down at the kitchen table and picking up one of the scones and buttering it before dolloping some marmalade on top. “I do wish I remembered what happened to me and between us. What are we?”

“That’s complicated. We’ve been friends, enemies, allies and much more. We’re the light and the dark, the day and the night. We can’t exist without each other,” Crowley professed. “I couldn’t imagine being on this big, rotating pile of goo and rock and water without you, even if you can’t remember me.”

“That’s one of the most poetic things I’ve ever heard, I think,” he whispered, eyes shining with tears. “I feel a certain connection. You make me feel safe… like it’s going to be okay.”

“It will be. I promise you. We’ll get those memories back come Hell or Heaven.”


End file.
